


Chocolate Is As Dark As Blood

by CatNip_618



Category: Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory (1971)
Genre: Child Death, Gen, Implied/Referenced Cannibalism, Murder Mystery, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:07:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28184403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatNip_618/pseuds/CatNip_618
Summary: My brother, Michael, went missing at Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory and I was determined to find out what happened.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	Chocolate Is As Dark As Blood

**Chocolate Is As Dark As Blood (OR In Which Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory is Secretly a Murder House!)**

**Note: _A few weeks ago, my brother told me of a video he saw that theorized that Willy Wonka was actually a pedophile._**

**_So, as a result, I think my subconsciousness has been scarred because in the early mornings hours of Tuesday, December 15th, 2020, I had a dream that Willy Wonka was a child murderer... And this is my story._ **

I had to go to the bathroom, so while my family got their belongings from the door that led into the factory, I stayed behind, telling them I’d be back in a bit.

I turned to the tall man in the purple suit. “Mr Wonka, do you know where the bathroom is?”

Mr Wonka smiled. “Of course, Michael! I’ll walk you there!” He put a hand on my shoulder, a bit too tightly, and steered me away from the doors and down the colorfully painted hallway. We went past the same halls we’d gone through when we had arrived and I found that we were back in the biggest room, the one with the giant chocolate river.

But before we go past the chocolate river, Mr Wonka asks, “Do you want to take a sip from the river, Michael?” His voice is almost purr. I scrunch up my nose in confusion.

“I though we weren’t allowed to?”

“You’re special! You’re the last one who made it through all the tests! Give it a try!” Mr Wonka says cheerily, nudging me towards the river of melted candy. A little confused, I walk over to the shore and get on my knees. I lean down and dip my hands into the pond to take a drink, but before I can, a pair of hands—Mr Wonka’s hands—grabs me by the back of head and neck and shoves my face into the river of chocolate.

I can’t breathe. Chocolate is meant to go into your stomach, not your lungs. Gagging, I flail for purchase but the river is bottomless, so I scrabble at Mr Wonka’s hands which are as unmovable as steel and very, very strong. My surprise turns to anger, then fear and then full-blown terror.

I know I am doomed. My thoughts are getting sluggish. My lungs are so full of chocolate, I can’t even inhale properly. I make one final desperate attempt to free myself, but it’s no use.

I’m dying.

—

Somehow, nobody really remembers Michael. He was the runt of the town and our family. It’d been a few years since his disappearance, and nobody’s admitting that he’s probably dead by now. I was only a few years older than him, but old enough to remember the last day I saw him. Michael had told us he needed to go to the bathroom and then he was gone. The last thing I heard of him was his footsteps, fading as he walked further away from us.

The funny thing is that a little girl had gone missing decades before and yet, the factory remained open. Well, I found that there hadn’t been enough evidence to convict Willy Wonka of her disappearance, so he probably used his immense power to bribe others to keep his factory open and running.

I’d visited the local graveyard and found little girl’s tombstone with the words ‘WILLY WONKA’S CHOCOLATE FACTORY’ written beneath her date of birth and alleged death. Oddly enough, there was a picture of a cherry red lollipop with a cartoon smiley face on it beneath those words. Either Wonka was covering up the crimes by using his power and wealth or the town government was in on it with him.

So I decided to visit (well, more like breaking and entering) the closed factory. There are days where it remains closed to the public, but is open to selling candy and chocolate indirectly, using little delivery trucks, kind of like a pizzeria or a restaurant, only the candy goes to the stores instead of homes in the various neighborhoods.

I managed to slip through the gates, since I was thin enough, and I used my borrowed mini axe to break the lock on the front doors. Slipping in, I found myself in the hallway where I’d last seen Michael. I could almost hear his echoing footsteps bouncing all over the walls. Surprisingly, the hallway was well lit and there was a quiet hum, reinforcing the assumption that the electronics for the inventions were up and running.

I walked slowly, making sure my footsteps were either as quiet as they could be of completely silent. As I stole my way down, memories began to re-emerge in my head and I eventually found myself in the candy land room where everything is made of candy. Wielding my axe, I neared the chocolate river and leaned over the shore. With all the reflective lights above, I could see my reflection. But as I knelt and neared the surface, it seemed to bubble and ripple, changing my face into someone else’s.

The river stilled once more and I gasped at what I saw.

Michael!

Still wearing the clothes from when he’d vanished, brown hair still tousled and crazy as ever, but he was crying. He put his hands on the surface like a mirror and I tried to copy, but my hands only went through the liquid and ruined Michael’s image.

I looked at the chocolate river. A tiny silver of hope blossomed in my chest. What if he’d survived? But the rational part of me denied his survival, because clearly the reflection showed my brother was very dead. Dead and gone. A hysterical giggle burst out of me but I quickly quelled it to not alert those tiny men and the inventor himself.

I wonder if the tube that sucked up the fat kid and the chocolate still existed, but it was likely because Wonka said it was daily. The idea of swimming deep into the river of candy made me shudder, but I wanted to find Michael, dead or alive.

Suddenly, an horrible thought came onto me: what if Michael and the little girl had been used as _candy_?! What if Wonka had stored their bodies in the chocolate river? I shuddered again, shaking out my limbs in disgust. That’s downright cannibalism, right? Storing kids’ organs and body parts in small pieces of candy and selling it to unsuspecting customers was absolutely disgusting! _Why did I even think of such a thing! Ugh!_

I snapped myself out of my dark daze by abruptly slapping myself. Hard. Gasping at the pain, but not caring because it was worth it, I steeled myself and set myself to an ugly adventure of finding Michael. I stepped to the river and hovered my foot over the bank. I lowered my foot under I was submerged to my knee. But there was no bottom. I took in a deep breath and dropped myself into the inky darkness of melted chocolate.

I had the odd sensation of stepping over a large object and I found myself back in the candy land. But Wonka was there. And so was Michael! Before I could do anything rash and crazy that would disrupt whatever the heck was going on, I heard Wonka say, “You’re special! You’re the last one who made it through all the tests! Give it a try!”

In dawning realization and horror, I could only watch as Michael inched closer to the river and knelt down to take a sip. But before he could, Wonka grabbed him by the head and dunked it under the liquid. I closed my eyes as I listened to the sound of Michael drowning in chocolate, his futile attempt to struggle out of his murderer’s grip and the loud breathing of Wonka.

Soon it was over. I could tell by the ringing silence. I snuck a peek and saw that Wonka was gone and so was Michael. I suddenly had a piece of paper in my hands that just _appeared._ It was a crude childlike drawing of a stick figure man standing at the age of water, laughing. Another stick figure was in the water and had a frown on its face. 

_Drowned. Dead and drowned. In chocolate!_

I closed my eyes again and suddenly I was bursting through the surface of the chocolate river, gasping for air. I heaved myself out of the river and curled into a little ball, dripping wet chocolate all over the candy grass.

And I cried.

And then I woke up.


End file.
